Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, March 15, 1990                   TAG: 9003142847
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: E-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

MAYBE BENNIE COULD SLEEP OFF HIS DEPRESSION

If you've spent as many years as I have trying to be normal, you don't have a whole lot of time left.

The latest evidence that I might as well give up is this study that indicates that the loss of a night's sleep lifts everybody else out of depression. As you might expect, this same loss puts me into depression.

Something about a chemical released during sleep or something like that.

As a matter of fact, not being able to go back to sleep after waking up about 1 a.m. makes me even more depressed than I was when I went to bed early to escape certain worldly cares.

Stop that right now. I do not assume the fetal position on such occasions. Let's just keep this as clean as possible. OK?

I'll tell these scientists one thing: They ought to lie awake like I do and worry about an enormous variety of things - ranging from my dog Millie's skin disorder to the greenhouse effect.

I don't know what kind of chemistry these people have, but mine makes me flop around in bed so much that the covers come loose from the bottom and that's really depressing.

You try making your bed at 2 a.m. and tell me if you feel like you're having just one helluva good time.

I can tell you right now that when this happens, I do not generally dance around and sing a lot.

All of this - including the feeling I get about 4 a.m. that the ozone layer has disappeared and we'll all be dead by the time normal people start having breakfast - does not make me a really cheerful person during the daylight hours.

This is helped along by a number of errors I make because I didn't sleep the night before.

One of the most frequent of these mistakes is throwing my razor into the clothes hamper.

I have also been known to throw my night clothes into the trashcan.

Quit it this instant. I do not wear one of those Ebeneezer Scrooge nightgowns to bed and I have never owned one of those sleeping caps with a tassel on it.

Nevertheless, I would not be surprised if this old guy with all these chains on showed up one sleepless night - while I was worrying about the battery in my car - and told me to expect three ghosts.

These ghosts probably would be Pretty Boy Floyd, John Dillinger and Attila the Hun.

Whatever is in store for yours truly here, I congratulate those among you who have lost sleep and are currently dancing around with lampshades on your heads.

I say this although just thinking about all you happy people depresses me.